Banking on a Myth

Today on Twitter, the topic briefly turned to Real Life vs. People on the Internet. Now, I’m the first to admit that those lines blur all the time, and I TOTALLY believe that the friendships we make online are indeed very real (and in many cases, converge into Real Life In Person Shit), so please, when I say People on the Internet, I don’t mean you, or those situations, I mean the People on the Internet who get all up in your grill about not having children vs. having children or the great SAHM debate or Breastfeeding Wars or Birthing Wars or whatever.

I mean, I rarely have these debates in real life, truly I don’t. Yes, yes, I do OCCASIONALLY, but it’s very easy to dismiss the perpetrators, because who cares what a stranger thinks? NO ONE. Frankly, none of my real life friends would do anything but be kind and supportive to me no matter what I chose, so if the lady at the grocery store disagrees, do I honestly give a rip? I mean, I’ll rant about her for a few minutes and call it a day, but beyond that: meh. Grocery Store Lady smelled like mothballs anyway.

And yet, on the Internet, when one or two people play Grocery Store Judgy Mothball Lady, we get all worked up about it and it becomes a Thing and before you know it, we’re Tweeting our asses off about some jerkwad who told us we were wasting our lives by having children (or not) and not becoming the next Carly Fiorina (or for pursuing that avenue), when for all we know, the jerkwad in question could be sitting in a rubber room wearing polyester and eating spray cheese out of a can.

Interesting stuff, that.

Speaking of Carly Fiorina, I can’t help but wonder if she’d been as successful if she’d maintained her given name, Cara Sneed. It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?

Anyway. I can’t tell you how happy I am that Bravo maintains a near steady stream of Housewives for us to devour, particularly now, on the edge of a period of time when I will have a lot of time in front of the television with a newborn. I mean THANK GOD. I almost wished I hadn’t eaten up the Orange County edition so greedily, but I am BEYOND excited for New York, even if my girl Bethenny likes Vicki and Tamra and gleefully blogs about it (WTF, Bethenny?).

I believe that I am the only person who has any kind of soft spot for Gretchen and wants Tamra and Vicki to be HIT BY A BUS. I mean, I don’t want them dead or anything, I just want them to be scared into being something other than trashy nouveau riche, for the love of God.

In other thrilling gestational news, our final birthing class was last night, which was somewhat anti-climactic, as it focused on newborn care and things like swaddling (am master swaddler and diaperer now, not that it’s hard, plus I have Swaddle Mes and Miracle Blankets). What was apparently disturbing, however, is that I kept slamming the swaddled/diapered baby on the ground when I completed my task, which had Adam in hysterics, but look, I’m SORRY. It’s a PLASTIC BABY.

Also thrilling is the fact that my arm is ENTIRELY NUMB and in a not-insignificant amount of pain, thanks to extended pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel, so if I owe you an e-mail I am so sorry, and I am WOEFULLY BEHIND. Seriously, my whole arm goes all twitchy and loose — including my shoulder — thanks to joint-loosening relax-y type hormones, and I’m hoping it means that my pelvic bones are so limbered up that I will shoot this baby out of my nethers without drugs OR pain in five seconds flat.

Right?

Happy Thursday! (The Millionaire Matchmaker’s on tonight! Let us see what Playboy model and/or prostitute she matches with a fake millionaire this season!)

*Andrew Bird

24 comments February 11th, 2009